


Rebuilding

by LizBee



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-19
Updated: 2007-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 22:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizBee/pseuds/LizBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of "The Apocalypse Element", Braxiatel pays a visit to Romana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebuilding

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this depicts the aftermath of slavery.

"The Lady President has retired to her apartments," Braxiatel was told, and he walked away before the guard could say anything about her wishing to be undisturbed. He marched briskly through the corridors of the Capitol, not wishing to look too closely at the wreckage that lay about.

He reached the President's rooms without interruption, tapped the door-chime and waited. She might be asleep, or—

The door opened.

"Romana," he said, and her name was an oath as much as a greeting. Twenty years—

"You don't need to sound quite so appalled," she said tartly.

He reached out to her, and she stepped back. Involuntarily: the surprise showed in her face. Recovering, she took another step back, and, as if it was intentional, said, "Come in, then."

There was, thankfully, no sign of her robot computer. The presidential quarters had not been occupied for twenty years; they had a faintly sterile air. Not like their occupant; Romana was a fragile, organic figure, perching on the edge of a chair, staring at nothing in particular. Her hands, he noticed, were constantly moving, fidgeting with her sleeves and her hair. Her fingernails were cracked and filthy.

So this was his president, he reflected ruefully as he sat down, the protégée he had worked so hard to mould. An emaciated wreck of a Time Lady with hollow eyes and a pinched mouth.

She became aware of his scrutiny and her hands stilled for a moment. Then they began to shake. She crossed her arms.

He watched her without comment until he could see the almost imperceptible rocking of her body. Back and forth. Her jaw was clenched.

"Have you eaten?" he asked

"Protein cubes." Her voice was almost inaudible.

He stood and went into the food preparation area, wondering if there was a physician on Gallifrey who could be trusted with this ... situation. No one, he feared, who was also competent. He added hot water to the tea leaves as she had taught him a quarter of a century ago.

She had calmed down enough to hold the cup, and raised it to her lips without spilling it.

"Maybe I should regenerate," she said.

A new Romana, to court and charm and guide? A new, unfamiliar incarnation, perhaps more independent?

"You'll recover," he promised. "I've no doubt of it."

She managed a half-smile and sipped her tea. Braxiatel waited until she had drunk half, until her tension had begun to dissipate, before he said, "The Doctor?"

"Gone."

"Gallifrey is in pieces and he goes off adventuring again."

"He saved us," she said. "I sent him away." Her gaze grew distant. "He thinks he escaped." She looked at him sharply. "And what did you do when the Daleks were invading, Brax?"

"Hid," he said. "I was locked in my home, and quite happy to be there."

"I looked into the Dalek soul," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "'Soul' is an imprecise metaphysical term laced with religious overtones, and I'm not sure the Daleks actually have one, but I looked into something."

Braxiatel didn't know what to make of this pronouncement, made with all the seriousness of a young Time Lord at her graduation. Or a president taking office. To head her off he said, "You need a proper rest."

"Hmm." A distant smile touched her lips. "Unknown horizons and alien skies."

"You should have gone with the Doctor. A decade away would do you good."

"No." Romana swallowed her tea. "If I leave ... I'd never come back. And what am I, if I'm not the President?"

And despite his relief – pride, even – this uncharacteristic resignation was disturbing. "Romana—"

"I just don't know anymore."

She was beginning to fade. The sedative he'd put in her tea was taking effect.

"Gallifrey and I ... will just have to rebuild together..."

Her cup slipped from her hands and he caught her as she fell forward. It was no effort at all to lift her.

"Tomorrow," he said, carrying her into her bedroom, "you shall see a doctor. One of those new young Prydonians, I think. I'll find a discreet, easily awed sort."

Romana made a noise that might have been an argument, but he carried on regardless.

"And then, we shall go to, hmm, the southern mountains, I think. Wild country and vast skies. You can rest and recover, and I shall fill you in on all that you've missed these last two decades."

"Gossip," she murmured.

"Politics," he corrected. "Six months, I think. Gallifrey will get by without you for six months."

"Mmm."

He squeezed her hand and rose to leave.

"Brax?"

He turned back.

"I think," she said, slowly and distinctly, "that I would quite like to wipe the Daleks out of history."

"An admirable goal, my lady President. We shall discuss it at length in the coming months."

"Good."

This time, he waited until she was fully asleep before he left. There was a great deal to do, and it was with some regret that he realised there would be no sleep for him in the coming hours. He had to find a suitably pliant doctor, inform the necessary parties that the president wished to leave the Capitol, secure a private estate for her use...

Nevertheless, he took a moment to enjoy the sensation of victory. Gallifrey had prevailed and his president was alive, and the ambitions he had thought impossible twenty years ago could yet be realised.

It was but a moment of triumph that he allowed himself, nothing more. There was still a great deal of work to be done.

 

end


End file.
